


Firsts

by Harukami



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Digital Devil Saga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-02
Updated: 2008-08-02
Packaged: 2017-11-05 18:33:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harukami/pseuds/Harukami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of Sera's firsts.</p><p>Spoilers through much of DDS2<br/>No sex, but not really safe for work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firsts

She's fine until they take her out of the EGG -- exhausted, feeling like she's drained half her life out of her throat, but _fine_. Then they take her out, though, and suddenly pain hits. She doubles up on the gurney, arms folding around her midsection, gasping. It's a slow heavy pain, a throbbing pain, not sharp; it scares her.

"Sera?" That's Dr. Heat, and now's the worst time, she thinks, covering her head with her arms as she curls tighter, more foetal. Now's the worst time for someone like him to be talking to her; he sounds angry, sounds like her pain has interrupted his carefully crafted -- whatever, and she bites her lower lip. "Sera, what's wrong? Talk to me!"

"Hurts," she manages.

"Where?"

"Stomach--"

and he touches her stomach through her blanket, fingers prodding; she squirms away from the feel.

A moment later there's a touch down _there_ and she gasps, eyes flying wide, but it's only Dr. Serph; he holds up his fingers to show her. "Look," he says.

There's blood on them, not the red, red blood she's come to expect, but brownish, thick, more like sludge than blood; it's blood, though, she knows it, it's blood. _Am I dying?_ "I--"

"Congratulations, Sera," Serph says. "You've become a woman."

They're moving her gurney along and Dr. Heat is protesting something she doesn't pay attention to over her head, some sort of _We have to be sure_ and _let's get her checked out_. The words are too busy tapping out a rhythm in her head: _You've become a woman_ , too busy fluttering against her chest in time with her heartbeat, _become a woman, become a woman_.

 

 

> They come back to the new base often enough that she isn't alone, doesn't have a chance to feel lonely, but long enough that -- well, that time ticked on, her body keeps adjusting. She fights against the trembling of tears in her eyes because she knows what's causing it -- not real loneliness, not really _real_ loneliness, just the helpless rush of hormones. When they come back it vanishes immediately, runs off just like that, and she scrambles to her feet, smiles at them. "Welcome back," she says.

> They greet her; Gale leans over a table to start a meeting, and she heads off into the other room; there's a throbbing pain in her gut and she can't really be a part of this anyway; she's a pawn in this game. It's okay as long as she's their pawn, but she's a pawn nevertheless, and they have to decide her movement.

> Heat comes in a few minutes later, though, and she tenses up. They haven't really talked since that time, since the force of his mouth on hers, and that's partly because she doesn't know what to say. She shifts from foot to foot, feels the wad of paper between her legs shift, shudders slightly.

> "Shouldn't you be at the meeting?"

> "I don't care," Heat says. "They'll catch me up later. The only opinion that matters is Serph's, anyway."

> "That's not true," she says. "Everyone contributes. Everyone has something they can say, Heat--"

> "Then why are you out here?" he asks, harsh, almost angry.

> She bites her lip and shuts up, half afraid of what he'll do if she argues, half ashamed, because he's right. It's just her mood making her act this way, she reminds herself. Just hormones. Just her body running away with her.

> He circles her, slowly; despite herself, she stiffens, nervous.

> "Are you all right?" he asks, finally.

> "I -- yes, it's all right, Heat, you don't... don't have to feel bad, I'm all right now--"

> "Not that," he says, and she doesn't know how to take that, if he's just changing the subject or if he's not agreeing with her. "You -- smell like blood."

> "Oh," she says. "Oh. Is it all right?"

> "I can't just ignore it," he mutters.

> She can't stop the bleeding, can't stop how they'll react to it. "It's normal," she says. "It's natural. Don't the women in this tribe ever...?"

> "No. Not unless they're injured."

> Of course not, she reminds herself. They couldn't -- their bodies are starving themselves no matter how much they feed, always desperate for more. A starving body won't menstruate. "I can't help it," she says. "So perhaps you should... get some space?"

> He stops in front of her, looks down at her. Her heart beat faster again; what if he kisses her again, takes her second kiss too, what will she do? She feels oversensitive there, that's hormones too, the insanity of adulthood, tossing her mood about like a victim in the ocean.

> "I'll do that," he mutters, and heads into the other room.

> She's flushing. If only it had been Serph who came in here instead. It'd be too embarrassing to talk about this, explain it to Heat. But then, Serph couldn't leave the meeting.

 

  
The water is rocking the boat, a slow and steady pulse. She leans on the rail and stares out into the night sky; it is a pure deep black speckled with stars. No clouds; she doesn't want clouds. Not tonight.

Serph comes to join her at the rail. "Sera," he says, in his quiet, gentle voice. "How beautiful."

"It is, isn't it," she says, and stretches out her arms towards the sky. "Like you can see forever."

He shakes his head, draws her into his arms. "Not it," he says. "You."

This is her game, her set-up, but her heart is beating faster anyway. She gives them personalities and lets them respond to what she does, what she sets up -- she has an idea where this is likely to go, but it's exciting anyway. She's not bleeding here, can't bleed here, refuses to let this digital body of hers react to time beyond how she chooses to portray it. It'd be silly, to treat her digital body like her real one. So she's clean and safe and -- scared, but not; this is her choice, this is her playground, this is exciting only.

"Serph," she says. She touches his cheek.

"I love you," he says. He presses his lips to her cheek, scatters kisses down towards her mouth. Her heart is aching. "Sera, I--"

"You two," and that's Heat's voice; Serph doesn't quite pull away, but Sera does. "What are you doing up here, huh?"

Serph says, "Sera and I were just enjoying the night sky."

"Was that what you were doing?" He strides over to the rail, leans his elbows on it, glares out.

Maybe they'll fight over me, she thinks dreamily; it'd be fun if Heat won for once, but of course he won't; it'll be Serph. She can play the scenario a different way some other time, but for now, it has to be Serph, nobody else can be her first.

 

 

> She's due any day now, but doesn't think she's likely to start her period. There isn't much time left for the world; and besides, she's starving now, too, her body strained, her body aging beyond her control. She's so tired, so light-headed. I'm dying, she thinks, I'm dying. Even as she starts to straighten, the world tilts and she stumbles.

> She would have hit the ground, but Serph was there, catches her, looks down at her. She can feel the warmth of his body through his uniform, can feel his pulse even through the cloth, even through her own clothing, her shoulder against where his heart is, or imagines she can feel it, at any rate. It's hard; her imagination's always been too real, always ran away with her.

> She looks up at him. "I'm all right," she says; her voice comes out smaller than expected. He's looking down at her like she's looking up at him, like they're thinking the same thing. Her heart thuds against her chest. It's a type of terror and a type of hope. He's going to kiss me, she thinks, frantically; she doesn't know what to do. She wants it, doesn't want it, doesn't have time for everything she wants -- to sob and pour herself out on him. She has to remain strong. She has to be the agent in this, for once. She can't just let them do everything and respond as if she's got no part in it. She has to do this. They're going to die. She wants him to kiss her.

> He doesn't. Slowly, instead, he helps her into the seat. They fit the helmet over her head. Her lips burn, her eyes burn, there's a pain in her chest, a slow throbbing pain inside her. She's going to start crying. She can't not. She has to stay strong. She wants him to kiss her but she's grateful, she's grateful, she's so grateful.

 

 

She'd started her period that day. Dr. Heat O'Brien looks at the readings and has to admit it: Serph was right. He sits alone over the reports and wants to cry. What the hell are they doing here? Playing God?

He's too caught up in himself, doesn't bother to think about where any of the others are until Serph joins him and he realizes how late it is.

"What, still reading that?" Serph says. "How many times? Careful, O'Brien, people will think your obsession's unhealthy."

O'Brien ignores the taunt, frowns at him. "Where were you?"

Serph smiles, a sly thing, a knowing thing. "Me? I was congratulating Sera, of course."

"...What?"

"Ah," Serph says. "What a blessing womanhood is."


End file.
